#he would grab Rolan from behind and Rolan would SHRIEK

[phantom-does-a-thing]

Rand, when they were younger, would have made Rolan and Kian do bloody Mary with him at sleepovers and then purposely try and scare them

[faerunsbest]

i present the concept that instead of discovering he has a son years after being born, he is informed the night of.

because ~angst~

The depression hes fallen into has sunk deeper and deeper, cal and Lia know hes waiting, they see him looking to the door hoping a a familiar sound of knuckles rapping against its wood will sound across the place. They know hes waiting for her to come back so he can spill his guts empty of all the apologies and guilt rotting away in him.

What an ugly falling out it had been, in a moment of emotion drowning he'd lashed out.

He'd said things crueler than he knew he was capable of.

astonished and ashamed he'd let her leave, only reaching out when he heard the sound of the door shutting behind her. the guilt of that gnawed at him from the inside out, clawing under his ribs begging to be released. but to who? She wasn't there... longer he waited the stronger the feeling got and he tried to drown it, stamp it down with wine and work. Cal and Lia finally would take no more and despite the gentle approach it ended the same. They shouted at him and Rolan bit back... until there was a frantic banging at the tower door.

All three froze, it couldn't be.

It wasn't

Rolan pulled the door open, his sibling by his shadow. Mol all but tumbled in, landing on hands and knees, looking to Rolan.

"SHES HERE AND SHES DYING!"

cold dread finally overtook the beast ripping at his rib cage. he blinked

"what?"

"Dwylla shes here and shes bleeding and they can't get the baby! ITS YOURS! YOU HAVE TO SAVE HER!"

Mol stood , grabbing Rolan by his sleeve and dragging him out into howling wind. sharp rain whips across his face as the city blurs by him until he finds himself in a small place, a small stone room.

Its warm, the candles are bright and the heat of them pushes against his cold wet skin like a weight.

Standing the room, now Mol only gasps and Rolan stops cold in his tracks at the image- of all people Astarion over her chest. Hands folded over her breast while he struggles to count compressions. Halsin's hands hands over her belly, a shaking blade in one hand he cant do it. He cant see through the tears spilling down his face.

Too late.

Rolan marches over, takes the blade from Halsin's shaking hands and pushes him out of the way. For this he felt as though he were outside himself watching his body, press the blade deep. He needs to hurry, shes giving no oxygen to the this baby. One layer two layers... seven and finally he can drop the knife to the side. Steady hands reach in to grasp it, Rolan swallows heavily as he looks down, warm little thing still as can be.

Astarion feels his eyes stinging as he stares, watches Rolans eyes go bright before raising this limp little body close to him and speaking a language Astarion didn't know.

he places his mouth over its mouth and nose, exhaling a spell then pulling back to wait.

by the door Cal and Lia stood froze, with hastily grabbed supplies in their arms. After an atmosphere of ache had begun to compress in Rolans heart, finally a small scream erupted.

That little body angrily flailing tiny balled up fists and shrieking. Rolan gasped stepping back and he pulled the baby close against him, Lia rushing over with a towel to begin cleaning him.

A boy, an absolutely outraged little boy with and unreasonable lung capacity. Cal had found his way to a pitcher and bucket. He readied a tiny little bath as quickly as he could. Lia took the small wailing boy from Rolan who immediately collapsed to the floor, he listened as his siblings hurriedly began to clean and check him over. Though Rolans eyes were locked on Dwyllas limp hand hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Rolan, what have you done? What spell was that?"

He turned to look at Halsin, Halsin who was full with terror and trepidation. Rolan blinked.

"It's no spell, it's a lullaby...of sorts."

As he lay his head back against the cold stone wall, Cal came back kneeling to place the tightly bundled child in Rolan's arms.

"So what will we call my nephew?"

The room was quiet by for the soft of sniffling and rough cloth scrapping across skin while they wiped away tears.

"His name is Rolan."

Mol said from her place standing at Dwyllas bed. She push her arm back over her chest, pulling blankets up to cover the gore of such an unruly birth. She brushed her small hand over Dwyllas face, shutting now dull eyes.

"When she found out, that's the only name she wanted. It's the only one she would have...so...shut up his name is Rolan."